


Cup of Coffee (how you like it)

by chantipede



Category: A.C.E (Beat Interactive Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Childhood Friends, Coming of Age, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Minor Junchan, Mutual Pining, Nostalgia, One Shot, Reunions, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:14:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26404804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chantipede/pseuds/chantipede
Summary: As dawn eases in, Donghun pokes his nose over yesterday's paper to catch a glimpse of the customer that keeps popping into the coffee shop, too early for his usual hour alone.
Relationships: Kim Sehyoon | Wow/Lee Donghun
Comments: 11
Kudos: 42





	Cup of Coffee (how you like it)

**Author's Note:**

> bangs fists on the table rarepairs rarepairs RAREPAIRS

The chime that follows his entrance always feels louder so early into the morning, where Donghun had heard nothing but the ring of his alarm, the engine of his car, and the crickets that seem to follow him into the shop from how little the glass walls do to muffle the noise. Even his breakfast—a honey granola snagged from the cupboard in a last-minute’s rush—had been opened sparingly, ensuring the plastic only crinkles when it hits the bottom of the trash.

Five in the morning. He should turn on the radio now that it’s officially open hours, but he’s not ready to have the day force-fed to him in the energetic voices of natural early risers, so he opts for the newspaper instead, because he’s an adult now, and old people are supposed have the patience to glue their eyes to something that’s not a phone.

_ Siamese Kitten is Saved from the Hands of Nature by Two Brave Elementary Students. _ He chuckles at the front page, wording and everything. Whatever kind of journalist includes the breed of a cat? But it’s comforting in a way that it reminds him how little happens in this town. It’s easier to go back to things when they’re just the way he left them.

“Excuse me?” A soft voice makes itself known to his left where he leans on the counter. A man stands taut in the lowly lit shop, black corduroy jacket falling to his knees, black morning hair bracketing his eyes, and a black mask concealing most of his face. His question is gentle. “Are you open yet?”

Donghun rolls up the paper in his hands, quickly nodding. He hasn’t even turned on all the lights, not wanting to adjust his eyes to them yet, but he hadn’t expected customers this early. Slacking of him, as it only marks a week into the job.

“Yeah, ah what can I get you?” He chooses not to apologize, too embarrassed by the mistake, but the man seems more forgiving than the hour.

“One americano. Iced, please. You can take your time, I’ll just get settled…”

Donghun tries not to look rushed as he sets up the shop in the middle of brewing. After placing the cup at the man’s table, he finally turns on the radio, raising it slowly, and soon the cafe is filled with music, the clicks of the man’s keyboard, and the slight pulse in his ears. It’s going to be a long Friday.

  
  


In the afternoon, Donghun finishes his shift and leaves his car in the parking lot, deciding to take a breather in the ‘downtown’ area. It’s barely anything, with only a few more tourist shops and sidewalks than when he moved out, but it’s nice exploring the little changes after two weeks of busily settling back in. No more aunts to visit or newborn nephews to meet. Just the soothing expanse of his hometown, so much quieter than all his years in the city.

He ends up with his feet in the lake, tall plants stretching out around him which Donghun had never learned the names of. They scatter out a few meters past the edge, probably having to do with the depth, but the water is too dark to see the bottom. He sings under his breath, letting the cool water shift between his ankles.

It takes a second to notice the nose in his hair.

“Lion! Ah, Junhee’s gonna kill me!” Donghun is met with a blue tongue to his face, followed by a young man, running up to snatch the fallen leash. “Sorry! I promise he doesn’t bite.”

Donghun reaches up to let the dog sniff his hand, one leg coming out of the water to steady himself. The face he sees takes a little adjusting to recognize, and even then he can’t be sure. “Kang Yuchan?”

The young man looks more different than the whole town combined, it reminds Donghun how far puberty can go. If not for the haircut, he wouldn’t have pieced it together. He pulls a hand through his own hair. “It’s me, Donghun.” He almost trips and says  _ hyungie. _

An unmistakable smile splits across the young man’s face, easing any remaining doubt. Yuchan has sure gotten handsome. “Hyung?”

  
  


Yuchan is as bright as he remembers, with the only thing holding him to the ground being the leash in his hand. He speaks loud and animatedly, but instead of being annoying, it fills Donghun with something warm and fond.

“And Lion, what are you doing with Junhee’s dog?”

Yuchan’s smile falls closed, bitten back. His face goes quickly pink. “Am I not allowed to walk my boyfriend’s dog?”

Donghun stops in his tracks and Yuchan mimics the movement with his arms to his sides. “No way.  _ Park _ Junhee? You and Park Junhee?”

“Is there another Junhee with the exact same pet that I don’t know about?”

“No way. You’re like twelve. And… gay?”

Yuchan smacks his shoulder. “No way hyung. Don’t even try and act surprised.  _ You _ are especially not allowed to be surprised.”

“Fair. You never even looked at girls.”

Another smack.

“Okay,  _ hyungie _ used to call you out for never looking at girls. Poor Channie. Already gone at the tender age of twelve.” He can’t help but laugh at Yuchan’s pout. “But Junhee? My music partner? I’m allowed to be surprised.”

“Well  _ I _ wasn’t partners with him when I was twelve. Everything happened after you left. Nine years is a lot.”

“Doesn’t feel like much when your hair still looks like that.”

“Hey! Junnie-hyung thinks it’s cute.” He blushes when he realizes the slip. “And you’re all long and blonde. City folk, I couldn’t even recognize you.”

Donghun tucks a strand behind his ear. “I should cut it then. Fit me back into this place.”

Yuchan huffs out a smile. “I think it suits you. It’s pretty…” He gives Donghun a look, and then a smirk. “Any nice guys or gals in the city?”

Donghun chews his lip. He’s used to the question, really. “Not really. Or, there was one guy, we had something for a while, but… it’s okay, we’re good friends now.”

Yuchan nods his head, thinking. Donghun feels suddenly overanalyzed under his junior, but Yuchan seems to let it go. “That’s good. Probably too much to take back home. Long distance is a lot, or,  _ unless _ you plan on going back.”

It’s not a question, but Donghun doesn’t know how to answer it. He doesn’t know if he can stay, if home can really welcome back every part of him, or if he’ll decide to go back to chasing opportunity in the city. He walks next to Yuchan who’s four years younger with a comfortable life together, and feels maybe a step or two behind.

“Got any dirt on Junhee?” he says after a minute.

Yuchan raises his eyebrows, his face contorting into a series of emotions before settling on something devilish. “I’m dating  _ the _ Park Junhee. Of course I do.”

  
  


The man with the corduroy coat shows up again on Monday, this time with his bangs pushed back messily to reveal most of his forehead. His eyebrows do a good job of framing his eyes, but his black attire still conceals everything else. Maybe Donghun wouldn’t be so curious if it didn’t feel so familiar.

He shakes his head. Everything feels familiar here, it’s confusing honestly. This time, he had made sure he was more prepared, setting down the mug in record time, this time brewed hot. To reward himself, he sets a playlist of his own into the cafe speakers and settles against the counter, hands finding the weekend’s paper. It’s just him and the stranger in the shop for the first half-hour, moon falling low with the sound of Donghun’s R&B, keyboard clicks, and a comforting story in the paper. When he looks up to a new customer, he faintly notices the other man in the corner, swaying his head to the music, and smiles to himself. It’s a soothing start to the day.

  
  


It’s after a long afternoon of job searching that he gets a call from Byeongkwan. Sinking into his mattress, he hesitates to answer, not knowing what to expect. Well, he  _ does _ know, it’s Byeongkwan, but he doesn’t know how it’ll feel after.

“Hey Kwan,” he settles the phone in his lap, pulling his hair up into a ponytail.

“Sorry I couldn’t call until now. Work and all. Hope you're settling in.”

“It’s okay. Yeah everything is okay. Family is keeping me busy too. They miss me.”

“I mean, nine years with only Chuseok visits? I’d be all over you.”

Donghun chuckles to himself. Idiot.

“I see the ponytail is back.”

“Huh?”

Byeongkwan laughs distantly from the speaker. “Your hair. Wait, you know it’s a face call?”

Donghun scrambles, seeing Byeongkwan smiling up into his screen. Did Byeongkwan see him frowning? “Ahhh, sorry, I just got into bed, and I’m not fully unpacked, it’s my brother’s old clothes.”

“You look fine. Did you not want the video? I can turn it off. I haven’t seen you in weeks, is all.”

Donghun settles on his elbows, then decides to pull the ponytail out before picking up the phone. Byeongkwan is there, in his common pajamas, sitting at the table of the apartment they used to share. It feels alien, sitting in his parents’ house and looking back at it through the screen, knowing he’ll never live there again, even though it’s something he’d accepted so long ago.

He shakes his head, smiling, and begins to fill Byeongkwan in on all the questions he has to ask, speaking casually about his family and old friends. He yawns widely after, too late past his new bedtime.

“Have you seen Sehyoon though?”

“Huh? Where does this come from?”

Byeongkwan shifts in his seat, mirroring Donghun’s from yawn a moment ago. “Your friend you used to talk about, the quiet one from highschool. Sehyoon, right? You were best friends, even. I think you said it once.”

Donghun leans forward, kicking his legs behind him. For some reason, the memories feel even longer ago than everything else. Sehyoon, who always shared classes with him and followed him home to study in their yard. Sehyoon, who slept late and woke up early, and was always there to talk to when Donghun couldn’t sleep, even when ‘talking’ wasn’t much more than a hello.

“I barely even remember him. I think we were only best friends because he didn’t talk to anyone else.”

“Honestly Hun, I’d believe you if this weren’t a video, because your voice is calm but your ears go red when you’re lying through your teeth.”

“Hey!”

Byeongkwan laughs, and the familiar sound makes Donghun blush even harder, spreading ear to ear. He turns off his lamp.

“I don’t even know if he still lives here.”

“Hey, you didn’t have to hide your face!”

Donghun turns off the video, and then Byeongkwan disappears too.

“I did. Okay seriously Kwan, I have to sleep. I get up at four.”

“That’s new. I can’t get you out of bed without a knife to my throat.”

Donghun hums, “New job. I work mornings at my mom’s coffee shop. Didn’t really ask about the schedule but, here I am.”

“Yikes.”

Donghun sighs to himself. Today wasn’t bad at all, if he’s being honest. “It’s okay… I’m kind of getting used to it. Quiet mornings. Goodnight, Kwan.”

“Yeah sleep.”

Silence.

“Yeah…” Donghun holds up the phone. The end of the conversation sinks in, feeling too brief for how he waited for it.

“Miss you,” Byeongkwan says, quiet. Maybe he knows… how it sounds like how they used to say  _ ‘Love you.’ _ Maybe that’s why it’s so hesitant, and why Donghun takes a minute to say it back.

“You too.” Soft. He hangs up, and then silence.

  
  


“Did you sleep last night?”

Donghun’s eyes blink open, phasing between the clouds and the red behind his eyelids. He grunts in question, head turning further into its corduroy cushion.

“...Thought you were still awake.”

There’s a hand in his hair, carding barely-there strokes like the brush of the wind, and Donghun’s own fingers twist into the grass between them, like they hold a comfort unbeknownst to his sheets.

“Was studying late…” He answers faintly.

The boy doesn’t ask for more out of him, just lets the bustle of the trees hush him back adrift.

  
  


The next morning is tough. He doesn’t remember how he fell asleep, and maybe it had been a bad decision to even answer the late call, but…

No, he had to. It felt like if he hadn’t, he would never answer Byeongkwan again. Maybe it was just the overthinking, but it really did  _ feel _ like that.

He’s late to the shop. He’s hungry after skipping his granola breakfast, his alarm song is stuck in his head, and when he fumbles with the keys—

“Um, morning.” Beside him, the black jacket, black hair, and a face.

_ Sehyoon. _

He almost says it. Almost drops his keys, and it takes even longer to open the door. He has absolutely no idea how he didn’t see it from the eyebrows, Sehyoon’s face is so clear in his memory, even now. Especially now.

“I’m sorry, let me—”  _ I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you. _ Does Sehyoon recognize him?

The door opens, miraculously, and then it’s just the two of them in that cricket silence. It  _ was _ last morning, and longer before that.

He grunts to himself over a sleepless headache. He does not want the lights on or the radio on, and the stranger,  _ Sehyoon, _ follows him to the counter, concerned.

“Can I get you something?” His voice, which so gently raises, is even more familiar. Donghun feels dizzy.

“Huh?” Donghun ties on his apron, having barely thrown on his uniform ten minutes ago.

“You look like you need a coffee. On me?”

“Please don’t, my mom would kill me.” He’s sorry,  _ sorry. _ “Just go have a seat, I’ll make you your americano.”

Sehyoon frowns, his mouth now visible, but doesn’t object. Donghun doesn’t even turn on the lights or music as he makes his first order. He realizes he didn’t even ask Sehyoon if he wanted it hot or cold until the ice cubes swallow into the drink. Now he  _ has _ to say sorry.

But “It’s okay,” Sehyoon assures him, his body turned from his laptop, taking the cup straight from Donghun’s hands. Sehyoon’s smile, unfamiliar, lets him continue opening up the shop half awake. Donghun turns away.

“Actually,” Sehyoon calls after a second, “can you take this? And make something for yourself? Maybe I don’t want mine cold.”

It’s so dark in the shop, Sehyoon’s face lit by the streetlight, and fixed with nothing but sincerity. Donghun blinks away the realization of all the times he must’ve been staring. He shakes his head and rolls back his sleeves. “Fine, just don’t tell on me. I’m late  _ and _ taking drinks from guys.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Donghun turns on the lights and music eventually, because other customers will come in soon, but he takes his time. Something about the atmosphere is forgiving, like the stranger, supposedly actually his highschool best friend, has made some kind of truce with him.  _ Truce, _ as if there were ever something rocky holding him back. Donghun settles in. Sehyoon disappears before seven.

He ponders it, hands in the grass of an overgrown field. The school is empty—entering a break, he barely recalls—and the building sits next to him. A dozen meters next to him is close in this vast quiet town. He’s alone like a vacation, and maybe he has friends who he can spend it with, can catch up with Yuchan and Junhee and even call Byeongkwan at his work if he really wants to, but now he sits next to the school. It’s actually really small of a building, he notices.

A decade ago, he walked through those old fashioned halls, stressed over homework in the library, fell asleep on the desks, over this grass, in a boy’s lap. It was just as quiet as now, but back then it felt so loud. Tiring. He remembers one story he told Byeongkwan, of how he used to steal food from Sehyoon, starting from his lunchbox, then straight from his mouth, and Donghun eventually came right up to him, face to face with the cracker between Sehyoon’s teeth, and bit it off. He’d thought that was normal. He remembers Byeongkwan howling at him, raging blush at how he had to tell the story to realize that he thought it was normal. His back meets the grass.

There’s a lot of mixed feelings of feeling sorry. Sorry Byeongkwan had to hear all that when they started dating, sorry Sehyoon had to let him do that, when he was bad at communication. There’s an old lump in his stomach about it, resurfacing—Sehyoon never saying no, or even goodbye when Donghun left for university. He thinks about the man, not turning his head or nodding out of the coffee shop door, a stranger now. He hopes the grass crowning his silhouette would blow it away, but the thought seems to grow taller around him.

  
  


“I swear I woke up on time. You’re ahead of me.”

“Bright and early,” Sehyoon says, pulling his mask down. “It gets easier.”

Sehyoon has been showing up every weekday since he first appeared, and Donghun wonders if he came before then, just later, unnoticed. They exchange small talk now, and it’s not something Sehyoon was ever known for, so unsurprisingly there’s not much else. Sehyoon pulls his coat onto the seat with how the spring weather is adjusting to reveal a layered outfit, bright and colourful underneath. With no one else in the shop, Donghun can’t help but stare.

Donghun puts on his playlist after giving Sehyoon his drink. Sehyoon seems to enjoy the music, or so Donghun can only assume. Maybe he’s reading into it too much, how Sehyoon moves his head as it turns up, and pauses before typing faster on his keyboard.

Later that morning someone pulls up a chair in front of Sehyoon, greeting him happily, calling him  _ Oppa. _ Not that Donghun’s eavesdropping, but something twists, other than the hand in his own hair. He sighs through his nose, closing the cashier, and decides to tie up his hair. The girl doesn’t make an order that morning, and the two leave earlier than Sehyoon’s usual. Maybe it’s the buildup of smalltalk over the weeks, but Donghun does wish he’d shoot some sort of farewell.

  
  


It becomes frustrating, when one day things feel like less than he remembers. The streets feel totally alien in the dark, like he’ll lose his way back home. His mother sets up the dinner table and it makes him feel guilty, like he’s no longer a guest or a son. He cleans the kitchen and does the laundry, late for his routine, but there’s that hanging guilt over his head that he wouldn’t be able to sleep under anyway. He could call Byeongkwan tonight but… No, that would just make him miss home. Their home. Like he should throw away this whole attempt and go back to the city.

  
  


“Morning,” Sehyoon pops into view from around the shop, and he says it more like a question.

It’s five-something past midnight and Donghun leans against the cafe window taking a smoke. God, when was the last time he smoked?

“Not open today?”

“No one’s going to show up for awhile anyway, unless you need your coffee that badly.” He’s not even sorry, no. He’s tired.

“Guess I’ll have to finally tell on you then.” Sehyoon crouches down to sit on the curb in front of him, not looking back.

Donghun chuckles, sarcastic. The moon sits high in the sky, half-creeping under a cloud. The stars scatter in uncovered clumps from the slight overcast. He’s had so many nights like this and mornings like this, heavy with deja vu. The city had a mere fraction of the crickets and stars here, always drowned out by streets and light. Donghun blows smoke into it.

If Sehyoon ever recognized him with his long blonde hair and aged-out teenage face, he doesn’t realize it until now. This silence. It’s exact. A mirror through which he can see himself scowling.

“You look exactly the same as when I left.” It’s not an insult or a compliment. Donghun doesn’t know what he means by it, but he takes a step forward.

“You look like a soccer mom with a mullet.” There’s a smile in Sehyoon’s voice.

“Isn’t that a little harsh?” It’s high up on the list of insults he’s heard about it.

“You say that like you were never mean to me.” Sehyoon is looking at him under the streetlamp, those eyes, framed by the hard structure of his face, like knowing he  _ does _ look different. Handsome. The accusation runs something hot under Donghun’s skin, past his buried insecurities and—God, age twenty-seven and Donghun is  _ blushing. _

Defeated, his hands find the door, keys left carelessly in the knob, and he lets Sehyoon into the shop.

“How did you even know it was me?” Donghun asks once he’s behind the counter like it defends him.

“I was pretty certain the moment your mom addressed you, when she was training you back in.”

“You were there?”

Sehyoon cracks a smile, watching him fumble with the cups. “Cold brew today. And yeah, she even said hi to me. Her bright ‘Sehyoon-ssi!’ and all,” he mimics her voice, “but you were too busy to notice anyway.”

Sarcastic again. “Yeah, too busy…” Donghun bites. “And you came everyday then?”  _ And started coming earlier? _

“Didn’t hurt to try.” Sehyoon leans his elbows on the plastic casing. It’s almost like a challenge, to make Donghun ask, ‘try what?’

“Bet you get a lot of suburban moms over the counter. Bet it’s easy for you.”

“Lemon squeezy. Bought a drink for one the other day.”

Donghun deadpans, feeling hot with his hands around the cold drink. “I should spit in this drink.”

“Please don’t. I need that.”

“Sure you don’t want to buy me another?”

Sehyoon cocks his head, amused, before pushing back from the display, fingers tracing the strap of his messenger bag. He skipped the coat today, and wears a light purple sweater over a collared shirt. Donghun’s favourite colour, by coincidence. “I’ll consider it.”

After they both get settled, Sehyoon busy on his laptop and Donghun preparing the breakfast menu, Donghun makes himself a coffee milk on the side. He considers pulling up in front of Sehyoon, to maybe catch up, or whatever two people do over coffee, but the oven chimes next to him, and like the other man in the shop, he busies himself with his work.

At around seven, when Donghun is too overwhelmed with orders to first notice, the girl appears at Sehyoon’s table again. It’s hard to see much else than her long black hair with how she’s turned away, but he catches Sehyoon’s rare eye-smile and easygoing voice. It shouldn’t be rare to Donghun, but in the past few weeks, it has become more of an unfamiliarized memory. He can see from the side that the girl is just as happy, with makeup that makes it hard to tell her age. She wears Sehyoon’s coat.

“Donghun,” Donghun pokes his head over the customers at the cash register at eight, to hear Sehyoon call his name like it’s not his first time in a decade. He waves through the doorframe while being pulled out of the shop by the girl wearing his jacket. “See you tomorrow?”

Donghun doesn’t have time to respond before the door swings shut behind them, with the chatter of the customers drowning out a murmur to himself.  _ Tomorrow. _

It’s barely a waiting game, with barely any idle conversation to fill Donghun’s thoughts and push him forward, but Donghun finds it hard to sleep that night.

  
  


Sehyoon waits for him at the end of art class, or maybe it’s the other way around today, with Sehyoon’s nose buried in his work and Donghun scrambling to finish his, but it always ends with just the two of them, two desks apart in last period, two hours from sundown.

Sehyoon sits completely still, eyes on his drawing and a biscuit in his mouth. Donghun makes his way next to him, quiet with his chair and his bag, watching, considering, until the biscuit disappears behind Sehyoon’s lips, spotless of crumbs.

He beckons Donghun, though it’s unclear what he says, and Donghun stands close to peer at Sehyoon’s art. He doesn’t understand Sehyoon’s art style, much like he doesn’t understand a lot about him, but Donghun has stopped questioning it—out loud, at least.

Of course it’s good, and pretty in ways Donghun doesn’t understand.  _ So _ pretty, in ways that he can’t piece together like lines that don’t meet, sides that don’t balance, colours that blend and contrast in relationships that seem alien to the human eye. He could never see colours used like this, except through Sehyoon, and it makes the whole rest of the world feel colourblind.

He throws a leg over Sehyoon to straddle him in his chair, just to rest his head on his shoulder, to communicate—not something with words, like praise or comfort or tiredness, just something warm; something he wouldn’t feel if Sehyoon were an inch further. It’s easy to ignore the tinge of guilt that he’s asking for too much, because Sehyoon never pushes him away.

  
  


The shop remains empty for an hour. Donghun enjoys his music, his newspaper, his slack. The chime of the door past six shouldn’t startle him, or disappoint him when he greets an unfamiliar face. It shouldn’t weigh on him with the next customer, and then the next.

The end of his shift comes quickly, and Junhee and Yuchan, who had visited for lunch, invite him for a walk, to be brief, as Yuchan disappears shortly for work. Junhee decides to head back with Donghun, and they wind up sitting in the open trunk of Donghun’s car.

“You know Sehyoon?” Donghun’s question pops into comfortable conversation. Junhee, like Yuchan, is easy to laugh about nothing with, though it could be that they’re rubbing off each other too much.

“Sehyoon… yeah? Mostly just from highschool, though. Dunno what he’s up to these years.” Junhee looks up to the roof, mouthing a thought to himself. “Something like writing?”

“Oh,” that should be obvious. Everyday he dives into his laptop immediately.

“Yeah— _ Journalism. _ He writes for the local paper.”

Donghun hums loudly, somehow not expecting the possibility. The dots. The siamese cat. Junhee kicks his leg.

“Why, curious? Have you talked to him? Still into him? Man you two had it—”

“Gross!” Donghun says it to Junhee’s shoe, shoving it back until it flies off, tumbling away from the car. Junhee holds his hands up in surrender, laughing, and hops down on one foot to retrieve his sneaker.

They both step from the car, Donghun getting into his driver’s seat. He eventually gets it out of Junhee that Sehyoon is still single, or so he thinks… It’s always hard to tell what’s swimming through Sehyoon’s noggin—Junhee’s words.

  
  


Donghun doesn’t expect to see Sehyoon the next morning as it’s the weekend, but he flips with a little more curiosity through the paper. It’s from yesterday, and the article under Sehyoon’s name reads about the night sky. There was a meteor shower, partially blocked by scattered clouds. It had made the stars that much harder to see, but that much more special for onlooking wishmakers. The article seems to bid good luck to anyone who had been able to catch one.

It’s to Donghun’s luck and surprise to find its author rushing in, tie tucked under a patterned vest, right at the end of his shift.

“Donghun! I wasn’t sure if you were working.”

Donghun tugs off his apron, holding back an answer to the statement, but Sehyoon is too hurried to catch the gesture.

“Do you make cakes?”

“Uh, my mom might. Not really for shop though.”

“Can I get it by this evening? We’re not picky.”

“She’s in the back… I can ask.”

Sehyoon agrees to it, and Donghun is quick to relay that his mother is happy to.

“What’s it for?”

“My sister’s flying tomorrow. We’re holding a party, uh…” Sehyoon shifts back on his heels, “actually, do you wanna tag— I mean… Will you come with me?”

As if he had been waiting for it since yesterday, a question he wanted to hear without even realizing, he doesn’t hesitate to say yes.

Donghun reunites with a house more than a family. All of Sehyoon’s relatives are just connected to the shared space, but there are new additions. The tree in the yard has sprouted straight up, the walls hold more picture frames and artwork, and there’s a new cat wandering the halls, though it skitters away when Donghun catches so much as a glimpse.

Sehyoon’s sister is probably the biggest change. Donghun could’ve sworn she was a toddler when he last saw her (okay maybe ten isn’t considered toddler to common folk but it makes him feel younger). She’s grown beautifully, sporting Sehyoon’s smile more than he does himself, and Donghun feels the gears snap when he matches her face with the one he’d seen in the cafe.

She remembers Donghun clearly, just like Sehyoon’s parents, and it makes Donghun melt a little, how something about it feels too easy and innocent.

Donghun’s mother shows up with a cheesecake with Sehyoon’s name on it, and just as he’s about to correct the mistake, the family starts singing.

“Make a wish for me,” Sehyoon whispers through the song. “I already got what I wanted.”

Donghun remembers that it’s May fourteenth. Sehyoon turns twenty-seven tomorrow. It’s been two decades since they met and Donghun can’t come up with anything more fanatical than ending up here.

Sehyoon blows out the candles and smears frosting on Donghun’s face, and Donghun feels the sudden urge to eat that grin off and devour him whole.

“She’s studying abroad,” Sehyoon says, after helping Donghun get most of the frosting off, though he still feels sticky on his nose. “She got this scholarship in Japan after highschool, and we’re all still hyped.”

“I swear, I remember when she was  _ born.” _

“Me too… The cake really was for her, but I guess it’s no coincidence that she came back for my birthday. She’s not the only one visiting back home.” Sehyoon smiles wide. “I’m glad you could make it.”

“But I’m staying.”

Sehyoon chews up his cake, quirking an eyebrow. “Are you?”

Donghun drags metal along his plate, watching the tiny cat creep up again, this time, landing curiously in Sehyoon’s lap. “I think so. The city is too loud for me.”

“...Probably,” Sehyoon stares back, his head cocking slightly, until the animal in his lap demands too much for attention.

“I thought you hated cats.”

Sehyoon runs his hands along the cat’s dark face, all the way down its white back. “I said I was  _ scared _ of cats. But they get scared of people too,” he shrugs.

Before Donghun can try to get a hand on the cat, it nudges past Sehyoon and disappears under the table.

  
  


At sunset, Donghun is about to drive home when Sehyoon invites him over. The offer is an eyebrow-raiser, but Donghun accepts, without needing anyone’s permission.

Sehyoon rents a studio downtown, over a restaurant, but unlike in the city, downtown is the quietest place to be at night. Most shops have already closed up, and they make it through Sehyoon’s door as quiet as mice.

There’s a lot to take in of the apartment: the artwork, the colour scheme, the emptiness. If Sehyoon spends a lot of time here, he sure makes an effort to get rid of all the evidence. It remains silent when they sit on his carpet, until Sehyoon turns on a song that Donghun recognizes.

“Are you flirting with me?” By now he can ease into relaxation at the first song of his playlist every day.

“Lee Donghun, nine years and you still can’t tell when a boy is flirting with you?”

“Who are you, Sehyoon?”

“Someone who knows what they want.” He sits in front of Donghun, “And a journalist. And an artist.”

“A coffee addict.” Donghun dances his fingers over Sehyoon’s thigh, testing, smirking to himself. Sehyoon is here, a relic from the past. Where Donghun looks at the ground, Sehyoon cups his face, smiling shyly.

“Addict…” He looks at Donghun’s mouth, swallowing. “Is it gonna take fifteen years for you to kiss me?”

“Fifteen?” Donghun says, throat bordering the line of another apology. “Did you like me that long?”

“Just a few weeks,” Sehyoon meets his lips abruptly, shortly, “and then some.”

It honestly feels like he’d kissed Sehyoon before, from all those years of studying his expressions, stealing his food, staring at his lips when he had said something almost too quiet to be heard. That same voice is low now, perhaps slightly deeper, but there’s nothing—not even the music in the back or the pulse in his ears to muffle it. It quells him, lures him further with the promise for more.

It takes one small kiss, barely the idea of it, and something cracks inside him. “I felt like— like I didn’t have a right into your life. A right to… the whole nine years, years you created without me. And then you just showed me everything.”

“You showed me something too,” Sehyoon rocks on his spot, subtle, “like, the sappy songs you like, and the way you ease into the day, and forget to ask people what they want.” He purses his lips, “The way you get mean when you’re flustered, and how you look with your hair tied up and sleeves pulled back.”

“Flirt!”

“I—Seriously, I just showed you my family. You already knew my family, so what’s different?”

A lot is different about Sehyoon. How can he even word it together? How did Sehyoon even word it together? “Where did you learn to take a man home so quickly?”

“But it wasn’t quick… It was like… Nine years.” Sehyoon looks determined at the floor. “When I saw you back, of course I believed you were going away again. I came for weeks, didn’t I? Thinking if we should get close, if you would let me close, then I should wait. But I realized if you’re gonna leave, I’d lose my chance anyway. So I ceased it. Why not…?”

Donghun kisses him, a hand around his tie and one behind his neck. If he’s going to kiss Sehyoon for the first time, and for  _ real, _ he’s gonna learn what it feels like. He owes it to his eighteen-year-old self.

Sehyoon’s hands steady Donghun’s hips when he crawls into his lap, not even that much different from when they were teenagers. Young Sehyoon, giving and secure, offered him glances and snacks and a lap to rest on, a pair of arms to support him and keep him warm.

_ Warm. _ Sehyoon still tastes like cheesecake and coffee. If Donghun had almost kissed him before through taste and warmth and closeness, it feels different at twenty-seven, with something beyond senses, feeling like the old, everwelcoming embrace of home.

“Are you really staying…?” Sehyoon’s voice sounds different against his mouth, like it’s coming out of his own. Donghun smiles, teeth breaching into another kiss.

“I can stay the night, too.”

Sehyoon laughs, and Donghun finds himself laughing along. He lets himself be pushed into the carpet, arms splayed out before instinctively finding Sehyoon again. Christ, he’s a lot bigger than when they were teenagers. A well built frame, sturdy arms bracketing Donghun’s sides, thighs curling around his waist. He’ll need to sleep soon or he’s going to get too carried away, but Sehyoon lowers him gently onto the bed, and he doesn’t totally mind.

  
  


“Sehyoon?”

He’s leaning on the edge of sleep, letting Sehyoon’s tongue curl into his mouth with a last grain of energy.

“I missed you.”

He can’t see anything in the dark, but hair tickles his chin and the rustle of movement dies down completely, warmth seeping comfortably into his limbs. It feels like swimming in a cloud.

“I’m right here.”

And not a sound more.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in 24h so im kinda tired but it was sweet :') thank you for indulging in my rarepair <3 i know they get much less hits so kudos and comments appreciated ty!  
> also anyone else hands up for having absurdly un-het experiences in highschool that you thought were normal? that was the whole reason i wrote this ngl


End file.
